There he lay the boy

drowning

in his own blood

And I was there to doing

the same.

She caresses me

He olive fingers

Stroke my face so gentlly

It feels as if being kissed

By the roses.

It hadn't been a dream

of mines

to go here

and watch gore take place

And watch the paint of beauty

from the pallet of life

dry so quickly.

And there I lie

The scared

Feeble mundane

Wrappped in petals

My small hand

corals

around a bundel

of Rue